


Someone in Michigan loves me

by februarymist



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/februarymist/pseuds/februarymist
Summary: One of the stickers at the rear of Hank's car had puzzled Connor.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 93





	Someone in Michigan loves me

_ November 13th, 2038 _

« Someone in Michigan loves me », read the sticker at the rear of Hank’s car.

Even before his deviancy, ever since he had realized the old combustion engine car parked near Jimmy’s was Hank’s car, the sticker had puzzled Connor. He had done some background research on Lieutenant Anderson before meeting him, but his knowledge had stopped at public records. He had the abilities to dig further into the lieutenant’s personal life by breaking seventeen laws around private data but had not felt the need to at the time.

And now, he still had the ability to do so, but he was reluctant. Hank had welcomed him into his house, allowing him to stay there when Markus didn’t need him to be on the grounds. Digging deeper into Hank’s past without his permission would likely be perceived as a breach of trust, shaking the foundations of their tentative friendship.

Still, he wanted to understand what it meant, if it was a joke he wasn’t getting, or an indication that Hank might have a significant other in his life. Unlikely, given that nothing in his house indicated the regular presence of another person, besides Connor. Hank hadn’t made any mention of currently dating someone. Finally, Connor guessed Hank’s mental health would also make it difficult for him to reach out and form romantic relationships. 

But unlikely did not mean impossible. 

So, the only morally acceptable way of knowing would be to ask Hank and figuring out when and how to make such an inquiry was a problem, also.

Connor mulled over it for three days, whenever he could take a break from his new responsibilities among the Androids’ current leadership.

“Do you have a significant other, Lieutenant?” Connor finally asked on his third morning at Hank’s place, sitting in the kitchen chair across from Hank, watching the other man drink his first coffee of the day. 

Hank’s eyes widened as he nearly choked on his coffee, coughing loudly in his fist while Connor had run to his side, placing his hand over Hank’s back.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Hank managed to say after breathing in, his voice hoarse. He coughed again but raised a hand to show Connor he was okay. He cleared his throat. “It’s just… Where the hell does that even come from?”

“The sticker on your car. The one that says, “Someone in Michigan loves me.”

“That’s for the car, Connor.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s uh, it’s for the car. The “me” is the car, and the “someone” is me.”

"Oh." Connor said. In retrospect, this was not surprising. It was well-documented that human bonds could extend to inanimate objects, giving them nicknames, accessorizing them and making a hobby out of performing maintenance tasks or improving them. A quick research on Hank's model indicated that a car this age had significant maintenance costs. So Hank might have formed some form of attachment to it if he chose to keep it over a newer, cheaper and safer model. 

Hank resumed drinking out of his mug. “Can't blame you for getting confused, though. Haven't exactly been a good car owner to her lately. Should probably get it cleaned up at least. Not like there’s anything else to do around town right now. What with, well, everything,” Hank said, making a vague hand gesture.

“I’ll help, if you want me to."

“Day off today, uh?”

“Sort of. Markus does not require my presence today. We’re still drafting a preliminary agreement with President Warren, but we can do this remotely.”

Hank nodded. "Alright, let's get to it, then."

_ March 15th, 2039 _

Sitting on Hank's couch, staring at his reflection on the turned off tv screen, Connor felt restless.

He was home after a week-long travel to D.C. to help negotiate new bills, along with Jericho leaders. Hank had driven all the way to the airport to pick him up there, even though Connor could have just taken an automated cab back to the house.

In the grand scheme of things, it was probably a small gesture, but this one had brought back Connor's feelings for Hank to the forefront of his thoughts. He knew he was in love with Hank before; however, in that moment, he had felt that he couldn't keep quiet about it for long.

He had almost told him when Hank had pulled into a quick embrace, but he thought better than putting him on the spot in the middle of an airport hall.

He hadn't told him on the ride home, over dinner, even when they had sat down on the couch to catch the Gears game and Hank had put his arm over the couch's back behind Connor, his fingers nearly brushing Connor's cheek. Not for lack of wanting; but he couldn't find the right words, the right tone, the right attitude. It hadn't helped that his thought process had seemed to freeze whenever he made eye contact with Hank, or whenever Hank touched him. 

Now Hank had gone back to bed, and Connor was trying to figure out the best way to tell your human best friend you were in love with him.

He thought of the car, of its stickers, of the sticky notes on Hank's bathroom's mirror.

A plan was preconstructed in its mind. There was a high probability that Hank wouldn't understand it right away. Think of it as some form of inside joke - it was what the humans called it.

Strangely, this outcome alleviated some of Connor's restlessness. To Connor, it would get the job done of exteriorizing his feelings, without jeopardizing his friendship with Hank. He could analyze Hank's reaction, get more data out of it, and figure out the best next move.

Quietly, he grabbed a pen and a light blue sticky note from the TV cabinet drawer, and with a smile, quickly drew a flawless copy of the bumper sticker. He placed it in the middle of Hank's mirror, just to make sure, though he figured out Hank would quickly notice it either way.

Connor sat back on the couch, and waited.

Seven hours and forty-two minutes later, Connor listened to Hank groan, yawn and push away the sheets on the bed. He listened to his morning routine, the sounds familiar and usually comforting. This time, however, the restlessness he felt last night was back, reaching a high when he heard Hank turn the faucet on.

Connor parsed a low chuckle among the sound of running water.

Hank took his time brushing his teeth. Connor's head snapped towards the hallway when the door opened.

Hank was grinning widely, a spark of amusement in his gaze. He was holding the blue note between his thumb and index finger.

Connor didn't move.

Hank walked around the couch, and stuck the note on Connor's forehead, pressing on it with his thumb.

"Good morning, Hank," Connor said, putting a smile on his face. He ignored the purr of his fans as Hank's close proximity and his analysis of the situation at hand were overheating his processors. 

"Good morning to you too, Connor," Hank replied. Another low chuckle, as he glanced at Connor for a second and a half, before taking a step back and turning away.

Connor swiftly stood up and placed his hand over Hank's.

"Wait."

Hank shot him a surprised look.

Connor took a lungful of air, cooling down his body. He peeled the sticky note away from his forehead, and took a side step to face Hank. 

He placed the sticky note on Hank's shirt, above his heart. He traced the rim with his index finger.

Hank's breath was hot on his forehead. Connor looked up from the note. Hank was standing still, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips slightly parted. 

Connor didn't know if Hank wasn't getting it yet, or if he was finding himself at a loss for words. To say what, Connor didn't know yet. But he knew what Hank wanted to say, or do.

Connor lifted his hand from Hank's chest to Hank's face, framing the side of his face, his thumb over his cheek. The heat radiating from Hank, the sensation of his skin and his beard against Connor's palm felt incredible. Connor prayed to anyone who might listen that this wouldn't be the last time he would get to experience it.

Hank didn't pull away from his touch. 

Connor let two seconds pass, before he lowered his gaze and his hand.

Hank wrapped his arm around his waist and kissed him.


End file.
